


달빛

by woojin



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Neon Genesis Evangelion AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:25:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9701405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woojin/pseuds/woojin
Summary: taeyong has two priorities: defending the world, and yeah, johnny.





	

**Author's Note:**

> you: you can't write an nge au for nct  
> me: (already on my 1893708th page) oh yeah?

In a post-apocalyptic Seoul, there was not much time for freedom. Taeyong knew that especially, definitely when the younger kids would be lectured about what the world was like before the Angels had attacked.

“This is the environment you’ve only known,” a commander from the all-female all-star unit, Girls’ Generation had told them. “And you may think, these otherworldly beings are normal. They are naturally attacking us, just as how tornadoes wiped out the civilizations before. They are not normal. Before twenty years ago, there was no need for this program. Now, you must pilot these elaborate things, just to help the rest of the world live.”

Taeyong had heard this exact talk before. In fact, Taeyong was exactly twenty years old, one of the younger officers. He wasn’t the youngest, that title belonged to Lee Minhyung, or Mark, as he told his unit to call him. At only, sixteen, he led the gifted, younger pilots to take on younger Angels, the Dream unit. 

Taeyong’s own unit was the 127 unit. He thought of his own boys, as he witnessed the Dream boys get the lecture. He thought about his soft-hearted older friend, Taeil, how when they first met, Taeyong really thought he would cry during a battle and then die. But Taeil was swift, calm, and smooth. The fragile feelings he had functioning on his feet was channelled into his piloting. Taeyong always respected Taeil.

Jaehyun in a sense, was the opposite of Taeil. Impulsive, someone who acts before they think, that was Jaehyun. He was emotional, like Taeil, but piloted with a harsh force, like tides crashing on top of each other. A way of life, a method already accepted. He always smiled though, the anger was cooled in the cramped space of the Evangelion.

Doyoung was different, almost a mixture of the two. Doyoung, always a stickler for rules, never took risks, vastly different from Jaehyun. Taeyong knew that was because of Doyoung’s family. They had prospered all their hopes in their son being a pilot, after all. But like Jaehyun, the urge to protect them had manifested themselves. Doyoung worked fast, oh so quickly, attack after attack after attack.

Ten was playful. A pilot from Thailand, the program in Bangkok had sent him to Seoul for more training. He was always relaxed, never tense. It was always the experience that Ten had under his belt, making it always so that if he had a backup plan, there was a backup plan to that plan as well. Ten had always known it was in Taeyong’s blood to worry, and Ten countered that. They were a great duo, really. Taeyong was strategic, and Ten was reckless.

Same as Ten, Nakamoto Yuta had transferred to Seoul for training that he couldn’t complete back in Tokyo. If Ten wouldn’t take the risk, then Yuta absolutely would. Brash, carefree, Yuta would rather “take the risk and die than not take the risk and then die”. The unit was cold when Yuta was hot. Taeyong loved that about Yuta, really. He loved that variety about Yuta’s rowdy energy.

Then there was Sicheng, from Wenzhou, a mountainous city on the eastern coast in China. Sicheng hadn’t been in Seoul for a long time, unlike Yuta, who had grown so accustomed to Seoul, the unit would be perplexed when he mentioned Osaka. Sicheng’s mellow, warm, almost innocent personality transitioned into his techniques, almost like Taeil’s, but rather sweeter. Sicheng liked to “not be so harsh” to the Angels, but then used final kill moves mercilessly. Battling Sicheng was like playing a game of Russian Roulette, no matter how long you can avoid the blow, it will come eventually.

Finally, there was Youngho, an all-American boy from Chicago. Taeyong had no idea where that was before he had met him. Afterwards, he spent hours researching about the city, wanting to know more and more about what shaped him to be who he was. 

If you asked Taeyong what he loved about Youngho, he’d tell you his leadership, his empathy, and his friendship. In private, he still loved all of those things, but he’d add things like “His lips, his eyes, his hair, his height,”. He would go on and on and on until someone finally stopped him. 

Youngho was tall, a whole ten centimeters taller than Taeyong, and as he looked down at him, it made him feel small. It was little things like that, that Taeyong always had to lead, take on the pressure, the screams, the disappointment, that comforted him when he could put his head on Youngho’s shoulder, and be told that everything would be okay.

Youngho was a reckless pilot, but that was probably because the other boys had a lot more experience than he did, so it looked like Youngho was worse, when in reality, he wasn’t as prepared. Taeyong loved that too, that Youngho would ask him questions and would always trust his opinion. The trust that he had for him was surreal. He’d probably cut his whole arm off had he asked.

As the cool wind in the training room breezed, as he was supposed to be listening to Joohyun’s words, he thought about Youngho. He thought of Youngho submerged in a sea of roses, his smooth brown hair falling on his face, his long eyelashes, his long legs, the soft skin that Taeyong ached to touch, but was afraid. Almost like a sculpture from so long ago, he admired the art that came before him.

Youngho was a few months older than Taeyong, and so he didn’t feel the need to call him hyung, but he looked about five years older than him. Youngho would often comment on how cute Taeyong’s face was, pinching his cheeks at the most unsolicited times, often while he was concentrating, or trying to look serious. Taeyong didn’t mind if Youngho thought he was cute. Or if he was hot. As long as he was thinking of him.

“Taeyong hyung, are you listening?” a younger pilot, part of Mark’s team, Jeno, had asked. 

“Yeah, I am.” Taeyong’s skin flashed red, as the Dream unit smiled at his embarrassment. “What did Joohyun tell me to do, again?”  
The rest of the 127 force had been at the dorms, while Taeyong had been running around, talking to those higher than him, pleading directors to invest some more time in his unit, lecturing his juniors, and finally, finally opened the door to the dorm. The lights were turned on, and there sat Youngho staring at a Chinese textbook. Everyone else had been well asleep.

Youngho looked up, and smiled, his teeth peeking out from his grin. Taeyong was in love. There was no other feeling to mistake it for.

**Author's Note:**

> no johnyong and science fiction on here is a tragedy. such a shame. there's like 8429478247329 a/b/o fics come on
> 
> i luv comments pleathe leave me some they warm my fragile writer's heart


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